


when i loved you least

by oddish



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:50:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5995612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddish/pseuds/oddish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You always were one for dramatics.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	when i loved you least

Neil storms down the narrow corridors of the dark stadium like a soldier into battle. He grips his racquet in his fist, squeezing so tight his knuckles bleed white, his brows drawn together in fury. When he finally makes it to the locker room, a black door with bold white lettering above a small grated window that reads ‘Black Widows’, he kicks it open. He’s expecting to find the team but when he steps inside all he sees is Andrew, his back leaned against a row of metal lockers, a lazy grin plastered to his face as he re-applies the stained red bandages to his palms. He doesn’t even spare Neil a glance.

“You always were one for dramatics.”

Neil throws the racquet to the floor, afraid of what he’ll do if it remains in his grasp, before starting forward, “What the fuck?”

When Andrew finally turns his steely gaze to Neil’s face, he’s not ready for it. He tries to maintain some façade, some form of bravado, praying the look in his eyes is one of rage and disgust, anything to hide the pieces breaking apart underneath, but Andrew’s gaze cuts to the bone. He sees through it, he always has.

“You’ve gotten sloppy since the last time I saw you.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Did you take a look at the scoreboard before you stormed back here?” Andrew’s smile is shark-like as he steps closer to the small wooden bench sitting between them.

“Yes,” Neil says. “It makes it difficult to score when the person I’m playing is-“

Andrew lifts a brow in amusement waiting for him to finish. Neil doesn’t. He keeps his mouth shut, lips pressed together in a firm line, and forces himself to meet Andrew’s gaze unflinching. He doesn’t look away when Andrew steps closer, not when Andrew puts a foot on the bench between them and steps up, not when Andrew is hovering over him, the fluorescent light a daunting halo behind his head. He feels the press of Andrew’s finger hook beneath his chin.

“When the person you’re playing is what?”

Andrew’s voice is quiet, overly intimate. It’s infuriating. The lack of any emotion beyond mockery in his eyes. It’s intoxicating. The rush of familiarity Neil feels in his presence. He remembers long nights that seemed endless, trapped beneath that gaze, his hands gripping a headboard above him, the fingers under his chin now wrapped around his cock, tight and rough. He remembers the breathy sounds Andrew made into his neck the first time he made him forget himself long enough to rock his hips against his own to completion. He remembers months of waiting, fantasizing, imagining a moment Andrew might trust him enough to let him inside. He remembers the night he had, the fractured emotions burned to his memory like the scars on his chest.

He also remembers the hollow weight in his chest the day Andrew confessed he had grown bored of _this_ , and suddenly the bile in his throat makes him feel sick.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” Neil’s voice is rough but he counts it a victory when he catches the minute shift in Andrew’s shoulders, the tension unmistakable.

Andrew’s expression doesn’t change but he does finally let go of his chin and step down.

“What do you want Neil?” He turns to grab his bag from the locker, “If it’s an apology you’re looking for you’ve come to the wrong place.”

“An apology?” Neil snorts, “No, I wouldn’t expect that.”

“So, what then? You think just because you left I was going to stop playing?”

Neil shakes his head and sighs in frustration before continuing deliberately, “Why didn’t you _tell_ me you got an offer to play for Court?”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Bullshit.”

After that, Andrew stares at him with a bored look on his face. Something wasn’t adding up and Andrew wasn’t willing to give him the answer yet. Just like that, Neil feels the anger start to drain. He may hate that Andrew was playing for their rival team, but he knew him, and if he wasn’t sharing everything right now he probably had a good reason for it. He tries not to think about all the good reasons Andrew had while he carried his friends’ dark secrets three years ago.

“Are you in trouble?”

“You really should see someone about that PTSD, you know?” Andrew laughs, “I mean, I may not be playing for the best team in Court but at least now I can get a full night’s sleep.”

It’s a low blow and Neil tries not to recoil from it. Andrew steps over the bench, right into his space. He runs a hand through his pale blond hair as he sighs and tilts his head at an angle that highlights his nonchalance. His lip is half split and his cheek is bruised but he faces him now completely unaffected. Neil wants to break him. Andrew had said ‘Don’t touch.’ and Neil had said ‘I know you don’t want my hands but what about my mouth?’ and before he had said yes Neil had dropped to his knees and opened it. At that, yes was the only word Andrew knew. Neil had braced his hands on either side of the wall beside Andrew’s thighs and Andrew had buried his fingers in his hair as he thrust in and out. _Yes._ His breathing went uneven and his legs had shaken, his eyes on him but unfocused with lids heavy and lips bitten. _Yes._ Neil’s eyes had begun to blur near the end and Andrew had tipped his head back and wrapped a gentle hand around his throat as he came apart. _Yes._ Neil wants to break him just so he can put him together.

Andrew stares at him like he knows everything he’s thinking.

“I guess I’ll see you around.”

Neil swallows around the lump in his throat, “Looks like it.”

Andrew smiles as he walks backwards, already pulling his pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket and pressing a stick to his lips, “This is gonna be fun.”

Neil waits until he’s left before letting out a breath and rubbing the back of neck to relieve the tension. He picks up his racquet by the net, his ears ringing in the silence, and pulls the door wide open. It’s going to be a long season.

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted a fic where after school the Foxes are recruited to respective teams and it's Neil vs. Andrew.


End file.
